


a merrier world

by starklystar



Series: 101 ways to propose [3]
Category: The Avengers (Marvel) - All Media Types
Genre: Arguing, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, Fluff and Angst, M/M, Marriage Proposal, Onion Rings, Spoiler Alert - Freeform
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-06-29
Updated: 2020-06-29
Packaged: 2021-03-03 20:14:32
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,976
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/24971389
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/starklystar/pseuds/starklystar
Summary: Scrunching his nose, Tony does his best not to let the whiff of onions affect him.Of course Steve would be cooking for himself. He probably expected to eat alone tonight, and Tony couldn’t blame Steve for vindictively choosing a food that Tony didn’t quite enjoy.“I’m sorry,” Tony offers after a few minutes pass in silence.Steve huffs. “No, you’re not. You’re sorry we fought. You’re not sorry for what you did.”-x-Or, Tony fights with Steve, Steve cooks, and they share a revelation.
Relationships: Steve Rogers/Tony Stark
Series: 101 ways to propose [3]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1793032
Comments: 11
Kudos: 422
Collections: Fanfics





	a merrier world

**Author's Note:**

> for a prompt on tumblr that asked for an onion ring proposal. sort of inspired by my own parents, and title taken from a tolkien quote :) hope you all are safe and well!

Tony huffs, throwing his wrench across his workshop. It curves lamely in the air, clattering on the floor, and DUM-E rolls over to it excitedly.

The sight of his bot beeping happily only sends him further into his dejection.

Steve had stormed out of the Tower, angry and fuming. ‘ _I need to be alone. I can’t stand to look at you right now_ ,’ he had thrown the words at Tony, and sure, they had screaming matches all the time, that never changed even after they started dating.

But they’ve been dating for more than three years – one thousand two hundred and seventy six days, his mind easily supplies – and Tony can’t help wonder when everything will inevitably end.

It feels far too good to be true for it to possibly have lasted this long, and Tony doesn’t know if this is _it._

If this is the fight that makes Steve realise Tony isn’t worth it, or that Tony isn’t right for him.

Because they fight a _lot_ , and yes, Tony concedes to the voice of reason that sounds remarkably like Rhodey, most of their fighting is harmless bickering and they quickly make up from their fights.

Except, this time, they might have crossed a line.

Tony can’t even remember the details of their fight anymore. Something about their recent skirmish with Doombots, Tony being reckless, and Steve being equally ridiculous.

Whatever it was, Tony feels sick to his stomach, his heart, at the thought of losing Steve over something so simple. He rubs the cold rim of his arc reactor, pressing down in a useless attempt to calm the restless thrumming of his heart.

Logically, Tony knows that Steve just needs space.

Logic doesn’t help much, though, especially given that Tony doesn’t know how to fix it.

He’s certainly not sorry for wanting to keep Steve safe. Still, he _could_ apologise – relationships were built on compromise, after all – but what if it wasn’t enough?

Tony knows better than most that an apology wasn’t a magical solution. Some things couldn’t be fixed by a mere ‘ _sorry_ ’.

Sighing, Tony gives up trying to improve Steve’s shield.

Fretting uselessly over it wouldn’t be any help. He hasn’t made much progress in the past hour, anyway, and rather than stewing in this limbo of dread, Tony would rather know the verdict now. 

No use in delaying the inevitable.

Yes, he wants to desperately hold onto what he has with Steve, but if Steve can’t stand to look at Tony anymore, then isn’t it love to let him go?

“JARVIS, where’s Steve?” Tony hears himself ask.

“The common kitchen, sir.”

At least, Tony thinks, Steve had come back from wherever he had stormed off to and isn’t angry enough to be taking out his frustration on a punching bag, even if he is upset enough to avoid the private kitchens of their shared floor.

Ignoring the twinge of hurt, Tony stands up, giving the red and blue shield one last look.

“Lock up for tonight, J,” Tony orders as he walks out.

Briefly, he considers taking the elevator, but the common room is only two floors above the lab, and Tony is too twitchy to be able to wait for the elevator to come up. He goes past the elevators, taking the stairs two at a time, attempting to work off his nervousness.

His effort fails, and he tries his best to not link that failure with his failed relationship. Predictably enough, he fails at that, too.

_Get a grip_ , he chides himself, rounding the corner to see –

Steve. Steve is standing with his back towards Tony, facing the stove.

Tony’s throat tightens when he realises Steve is cooking.

From the tight hunch of Steve’s shoulders, Tony can tell that he’s still as frustrated with Tony as he had been a few hours ago, and Tony doesn’t know if he’s welcome yet or not.

Steve had wanted space, Tony remembers abruptly, and Tony can’t even give it to him. _God_ , why does Tony keep messing things up?

Slowly backing away to leave, he prays that Steve’s enhanced hearing won’t notice the noise, except –

“Hey.”

Tony stares. Steve stares back at him with those blue, _blue_ eyes, pinning Tony to the spot.

He's wearing the ' _Kiss the Cap'_ apron that Tony had given him all those years ago before they had even started dating, and Tony blinks at the bold red letters as he scrambles for anything acceptable to say.

“Hey,” Tony eventually breathes out, stuffing his hands into his pockets and leaning against the wall, unsure what to do with himself.

The pan sizzles loudly, and Steve turns back to the stove, making no other comment. 

Tony scrunches his nose at the whiff of onions.

Of course Steve would be cooking for himself. He probably expected to eat alone tonight, and Tony couldn’t blame Steve for vindictively choosing a food that Tony didn’t quite enjoy.

“I’m sorry,” Tony offers after a few minutes pass in silence.

Steve huffs. “No, you’re not. You’re sorry we fought. You’re not sorry for what you did.”

He doesn’t spare a glance at Tony, but his shoulders have hunched in anyway, some of the tense displeasure smoothed away by the apology, so Tony braves stepping closer to him, walking right up to the stove to see what he’s cooking.

Onion rings, Tony notes ruefully. 

It’s a well-known fact among their team that Tony likes burgers, and Steve will demolish the side dish of onion rings. The onion rings had been a food that was familiar to Steve, with the added bonus that they were simple enough to cook, even if Tony disapproved of onions in general.

Steve is well within his rights to cook anything, though, so Tony silently takes a plate out from one of the cabinets, offering it to him. 

An olive branch.

Tony holds it out as Steve piles some of the fried onion rings onto the plate. 

They’ve done this dozens of times before, and Tony doesn’t want this to be the last time. But he also doesn’t want to force Steve to stay if he truly is that unhappy with him, so Tony keeps quiet as he watches Steve carefully arrange the rings on the plate.

“For what it’s worth,” Steve finally breaks the silence with a smile, a small thing, just a quirk of his lips. Not quite happy, but fond nevertheless. “I’m sorry, too.”

“No, you’re not,” Tony finds himself smiling back, instinct taking over.

“No,” Steve agrees easily. “But I cooked dinner for us.”

“You cooked dinner for _you_ ,” Tony corrects, pushing away any bitterness. He could get JARVIS to buy something later. Food wasn’t really on his priority list right now.

Steve shakes his head, though. “Check the oven. I baked some pasta.”

_What?_

Tony’s eyes dart to the oven on the other side of the kitchen, squinting past its glass pane and, sure enough, he spots a tray of something in it. 

His heart flutters, confused and hopeful all at once.

“But you’re angry,” he blurts out, confusion triumphing over caution.

“I’m angry that you decided to go against my orders and put yourself in harm’s way,” Steve explains, placing the last onion ring on the plate and turning the stove off. “Doesn’t mean that I want you to get hungry. I knew you’d forget about dinner.”

“Well you shouldn’t have rushed into a collapsing building, _Steven_ ,” Tony bites back, because it’s the only thing he can say past the tightness of his throat. Steve always cared so much, and Tony loves him so much it hurts.

Steve rolls his eyes. “I was saving a kid.”

“Who I could have saved faster with my suit.”

Steve shrugs. “I’m not sorry for wanting to keep you unhurt.” Then, softer, “I _am_ sorry for the way I went about it. I shouldn’t have lost my temper.”

Taking the plate of onion rings from Tony’s hand, Steve lowers it onto the kitchen counter. 

Their fingers brush, warm and soft, and something settles between the two of them. 

Not exactly forgiveness, but an acceptance that they were both right and wrong in their own ways, and that they were ready to properly listen to each other.

“I shouldn’t have lost my temper either,” Tony acquiesces too. “And you cooked for me.”

He feels like he should focus on resolving their argument, but for some reason he finds himself fixated on the fact that despite Steve being angry at Tony, Steve had still found it in himself to spend those long hours labouring away at Tony’s favorite dish.

“I’ll never be angry enough to let Clint poison you with his burnt eggs,” Steve promises wryly, sincerely.

But here’s the thing: Tony is a billionaire.

He could call any restaurant in New York, hell any in the _world_ , and they’d be tripping over themselves to deliver to the Tower.

_I can’t stand to look at you right now_ , Steve had said, but he had gone and cooked for Tony. 

Even when Steve had been angry, he was thinking of Tony and how to make Tony happy.

This is love, Tony suddenly realises.

And Tony wants it. 

He wants to never let go of it, this gentle, steady sunlight. This coming home to a warm dinner, this shelter from the storms of the world, this haven safe from even the storms of their own hearts.

They’ll always fight, Tony knows that, their rough edges tearing each other apart. 

But Steve had only fought so stubbornly because it was _Tony_ at stake. They had both always been afraid of losing each other, and they had always been better at turning to anger instead of admitting their fears.

Steve walks to the oven, taking out the pasta and sending its savoury scent across the room. 

Already, Tony knows without having to look that it’ll be lumpy and messy – Steve never had the patience to dress food nicely – but it’ll taste perfect.

Tony swallows around the lump in his throat. It’s too much.

He wants to stay angry at Steve, because Steve was _stupid_ to rush into that building like that, but he can’t stay angry when Steve turns around, walking back to him with a small, satisfied smile.

There’s a fork stuck in the middle of the baking tray, and Steve uses it to take a small chunk of pasta, offering it to Tony almost shyly.

“You’re bribing for my forgiveness with food,” Tony pretends to pout, mind flailing to hide the rawness that Steve had carved into his heart with the goddamned perfect pasta and that little smile of his, as if Steve found the greatest happiness in seeing Tony enjoy his cooking.

“When I went on the walk,” Steve starts, ducking his head, putting the pasta down next to the onion rings. “I kept thinking about how worried I was of nearly losing you and eventually I calmed down enough to realise I could have actually lost you because I lost my temper. So I might have panicked and bought some ingredients to make this.”

Tony blinks. He hadn’t expected that.

His heart feels _raw_ , the entire day’s stress, worry and fear catching up with him, and this tenderness against his bruised bones, it threatens to break him.

Overwhelming is an understatement. 

Tony didn’t know it was possible for him to love Steve even more, but here Steve is, loving Tony so deeply despite everything, and Tony can’t help the wave of affection that crashes over him, hard and unrelenting.

He considers the onion ring on the plate, picking one up.

It’s still hot, but the heat of it sinks through his fingers, sharp enough to focus Tony, and he meets Steve’s eyes, finding there a fierceness and a fondness that Tony realises is his and his alone.

That realisation is what tips the scales, sending the next words tumbling past his lips.

“Marry me.”

Steve’s eyes widen.

He stares at the onion ring in Tony’s hand, frozen and disbelieving.

Tony stares down at it too, blinking rapidly as the enormity of his own words hit him.

“I’m sorry, it’s stupid,” Tony curses at himself, rushing to explain. “I shouldn’t have asked now so soon after a fight – can we forget I ever said that – “

“ _Tony_.”

In that voice, said in that way, his name makes him shut up. 

He blinks at Steve, wary and trying his hardest to keep the stream of explanations from spilling out again.

Steve reaches forward, gently taking Tony’s other hand, tightly wrapping his fingers around it. When his eyes meet Tony’s again, there isn’t anything that Tony fears there. Only a warmth and mischief that Tony’s come to irrevocably love.

Slowly, Steve asks squeezing Tony’s hand for emphasis. “Are you seriously asking me the question, or did you just love the pasta that much?”

Even now, bruised and weary and wound up as Tony is from the battle and their fight, Steve still knows how to make him laugh.

Something about that makes Tony’s doubt and tension fades away, soothed by the light he finds reflected in Steve’s eyes.

“It’s whatever you want it to be,” Tony admits.

If Steve isn’t ready to marry him yet, if Steve still had doubts about him, Tony understands.

The curve of Steve’s lips spreads wider across his cheeks, though, and, as always, Tony’s heart stutters at the sight of _that_ smile, happy and beautiful.

“I’d marry you any day.” 

The way Steve says it, voice quivering with restrained joy, it takes a few seconds for the words to properly register in Tony's mind. 

“You're serious? No take backs,” Tony searches high and low for any sign of a lie, his heart hammering loudly in his ears. 

Steve gives him a fond look, taking a step closer to properly kiss Tony, long and hard. 

“We've been together for three years,” he sternly tells Tony, as if his Captain's voice could command all of Tony's doubts away. “And I’m ready for more if you are. I just wasn’t expecting that you’d ask me like that.”

How did Tony get so lucky?

His heart feels full of everything he’d ever felt for Steve, the dark and light colliding into a big bang of overflowing brightness threatening to burst out.

“What did you expect?” Tony asks, offering the onion ring again for Steve to take.

He _is_ ready. Tony doesn’t want to wait any longer, because Steve is right. 

They’ve been together for three years, and with their lives being as dangerous as it is, Tony doesn’t want to waste any more time on his doubts and fears, especially when Steve has never failed to prove them wrong.

Steve weighs Tony’s gaze for another moment before he finally takes the ring, slipping it on his finger with a flourish and a laugh. 

It’s too large, hanging off Steve’s hand, but they both smile down at it anyway, caught in their own little world.

“I don’t know,” Steve shrugs playfully, pretending to think, “I expected anything that wasn’t an onion ring.”

“ _Hey!_ ” Tony protests. “My fiancé made that onion ring. You’re not allowed to complain.”

“I guess I could make an allowance for your fiancé,” Steve winks.

Tony snorts, poking Steve’s chest. “Just eat your damn ring and kiss me properly.”

Steve shakes his head, putting the ring back on the plate. “You don’t like the taste of onions.”

It turns out Tony _can_ still love Steve even more. “Does that mean you won’t ever eat onions again just so I can kiss you anytime?”

“You know, I’m still angry at you,” Steve reminds him instead of dignifying the question with an answer.

Tony leans forward to kiss him quickly, unable to bear not doing it. “Me too.”

Steve doesn’t let him pull back far, instead he presses their foreheads together, smiling at Tony, gentle and happy. “Still in love with you, too.”

“You know what that means?” Tony grins into the next kiss. “It means we get angry sex _and_ engagement sex. I really hit the jackpot with my fiancé.”

Steve laughs some more. “Not as much as I did.” He pauses to cup Tony’s cheeks, his thumb brushing across the crinkles of Tony’s eyes. “Have you seen _my_ fiancé?”

This is love, Tony decides, this comfort of being held by Steve, this simplicity of home.

And he sinks into it, letting its safety wrap around the scars of his heart, its warmth chasing away his worries.

“My fiancé’s better,” Tony teases back, even as Steve wraps him tightly between his arms, pulling them impossibly close together.

“I think we can table that fight for when you meet my _husband_ ,” Steve murmurs, dipping his voice low in that Brooklyn accent of his that Tony always loved, that Tony now loves even more.

_Husband_ , Tony’s mind echoes, trying out its syllables, the curve of the word beside Steve’s name, wondering if he himself would ever get used to being called that by Steve, wonders if his heart would ever stop racing at the thought of it, tripping over its own joy.

They were actually getting married. _Married_.

Tony never thought he’d ever get married, never thought he’d find someone who would truly, freely want to marry him. 

And yet. 

Here he is, in the arms of this amazing, wonderful, kind man.

“Thank you,” Tony lets the words slip out, his heart brimming with them.

“For what?”

_For loving me_ , Tony wants to say, _for making me happy. For being yourself, for holding me this close, for holding me this gently, this tightly. For letting me love you, for forgiving me._

_For everything_ , Tony thinks.

But there’ll be time enough for that when they say their vows, so Tony just kisses Steve one more time, lingering in the sweetness of his smile.

“Thank you for dinner.”

**Author's Note:**

> also posted on [tumblr](https://starklysteve.tumblr.com/post/622210466577580032/hi-i-just-found-you-on-tumblr-and-i-love-your)


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